


By Any Other Name

by edgarallanrose



Series: Dean/Cas Sweetheart Challenge 2017 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (He tries), Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DeanCas Sweetheart Challenge, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Mostly Canon Compliant, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: “What?” Dean asked.“You just called Cas sweetheart,” Sam said, a grin spreading across his face.“No I –“ Dean looked at Cas, who nodded solemnly in confirmation. “Shit I – I didn’t mean to!”“What would we call that? A Freudian slip?” Sam asked, now openly snickering. Dean felt all his blood rush to his face.“Shut up, Sammy,” he mumbled. “Sorry, Cas.”“I really don’t –“ he began, then, thinking better of it, “it’s fine. You’re welcome, regardless.”Dean couldn’t look at him the rest of the day.A DeanCas Sweetheart Challenge 2017 fic!





	

It had all started innocently enough.

“Morning sunshine,” Dean said as Castiel appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Some coffee?”

 _Sunshine._ Dean hadn’t exactly meant to say it, but it didn’t garner a reaction from anyone. Sam hadn’t batted an eyelash; he doubted Cas was even really listening. ‘Sunshine,’ as it turned out, was a safe enough term of endearment. Dean had been tiring of ‘buddy’ and ‘pal,’ though he couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why. So sunshine stayed.

He was careful not to say it too often, and only in appropriate situations. Mornings were always safe. It was also acceptable on days where Cas was particularly grumpy (most days, Dean noted). Saying it made Dean feel comfortable and warm, like a secret no one else was in on.

Dean should have known he would manage to muck it up somehow. That’s what you get for trying to deviate from any nickname that you wouldn’t call your own brother.

It happened at a small café in Boulder, Colorado.

They had received a text from Mary the prior day about a possible haunting in the area, but she was too far away to get there in any reasonable amount of time. It was nice being on a normal hunt with Cas available to hitch along for the ride. They had decided to stop at the café to get their caffeine fix and bum the free Wi-Fi for their research.

“I’ll get the coffee if you two would like to find a table,” Cas said. “The usual?”

“Add an extra shot of espresso,” Sam said.

“Me too,” Dean said, then added, “and a blueberry muffin.”

Cas nodded, getting in line while Sam and Dean found a table near an electrical outlet so they could recharge their nearly dead devices.

“I don’t know Dean,” Sam said, scrolling through a couple articles on his tablet, “I don’t see any history on the property that would indicate ghost activity.”

“Then it’s gotta be connected to the family, not the property,” Dean mumbled, opening another tab in his browser. Cas finally appeared with their order, setting the paper cups down on the table and sliding into the chair next to Dean.

“I forwent the muffin. All of them were vegan and gluten-free. And they cost five dollars. I didn’t think you would want one,” Cas said.

 “And you were right.” Dean took a sip of his coffee without looking up from his laptop screen. “Mmm, thanks sweetheart.”

Sam startled and looked up from his tablet. Cas froze beside him.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You just called Cas sweetheart,” Sam said, a grin spreading across his face.

“No I –“ Dean looked at Cas, who nodded solemnly in confirmation. “Shit I – I didn’t mean to!”

“What would we call that? A Freudian slip?” Sam asked, now openly snickering. Dean felt all his blood rush to his face.

“Shut up, Sammy,” he mumbled. “Sorry, Cas.”

“I really don’t –“ he began, then, thinking better of it, “it’s fine. You’re welcome, regardless.”

Dean couldn’t look at him the rest of the day.

***

They arrived home at the Bunker two days later. Thankfully, they had found and destroyed the object tying the ghost to the family and Sam had exhausted the “sweetheart” jokes after about six hours of relentless teasing. They were all exhausted, mentally and physically. They were unpacking their weapons in the war room to begin the process of inspecting and cleaning each one when Sam received a facetime call from Mary and took it in the other room. Cas helped Dean finish the task. It was nice, sitting comfortably in companionable silence. Dean wondered when he had gotten used to having Cas around for little stuff like this, and how he would feel if Cas ever left again. Dean knew, inevitably, he would have to for some noble reason or another. This soured the pleasant after-hunt-glow a bit. As if noticing the subtle crease in Dean’s brow, Cas said,

“I enjoyed being able to hunt with you and Sam again.”

“Yeah, thanks for tagging along,” Dean said.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said, before exiting the room.

Dean stared after him. Was Cas trying to make him feel better? Or making fun of him? Dean scowled, loading a magazine into a clip a little more forcefully than necessary.

***

The incident was not brought up again. Weeks went by. Dean tried to let it go, but he couldn’t help micromanaging every interaction between himself and Cas. He overanalyzed every touch, however brief, and was painfully aware of every lingering glance. It had been so easy before. What had changed?

***

The Impala flew down the road towards the bunker, tires screeching and Dean white-knuckling the steering wheel. They had received an alarming call from Castiel about a half hour before, which had ended in the sound of furniture breaking and a fist connecting with bone. Someone, somehow, had gotten into the bunker.

“Did he say who it was?” Sam asked from the back seat, clinging onto the driver’s seat as Dean took a sharp right turn. He shook his head no.

“Could be another angel,” Mary suggested.

“Cas should be the only one who can get past the warding,” Dean said. “No, my money’s on those British sons of bitches.”

“What would they want with Castiel?” Mary asked.

“Nothin’ good.”

Dean pulled to a halting stop outside the back entrance. The key was barely out of the ignition before he had leapt from the car. The door to the bunker was ajar, the frame singed at the edges.

“Looks like a spell,” Sam said, but Dean wasn’t listening.

“Castiel?” he called, running down the steps two at a time, gun in hand. “Cas, where are you?”

Through the archway he saw a lamp shattered on the floor of the library and he ran towards it. In the library, crumpled in the corner and covered in blood, was Cas. He had a brief horrific flashback of another time Cas had been lying beaten on the library floor. When it was Dean who had put him there.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean said, dropping to his knees at his side.

Cas was unresponsive, eyes closed and limp as a ragdoll. Dean hefted him up partway off the floor, cradling his head in his lap.

In the background he could hear Sam and Mary splitting up, going to check the rest of the bunker. He brushed back the hair on Cas’ forehead, noticing a deep gash near his hairline. His usually stark white shirt was sticky and red, clinging wetly to his body. Dean couldn’t even tell where the wound was.

“Cas please,” he heard himself say, “c’mon wake up.” He gently slapped the side of his face and jostled him a little. “Snap out of it, Cas. Wake up.”

His eyes were stinging. He was barely aware of Mary and Sam back in the room with him.

“Sweetheart, please,” he whispered. “We…I need you. You know that, how many times I gotta say… Castiel. Please…”

Then Cas’ eyes flickered open and he took a rattling breath.

“Cas!” Dean said, pulling the angel in closer until he was almost sitting up. “You alright? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Cas whispered something, an unintelligible gravelly rasp.

“What? What is it?”

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You called me sweetheart.”

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed hard. “I did.”

Castiel stared and then smiled, his busted lip pulling slowly over pink stained teeth.

“I like that.”

Dean smiled back, leaned in, and finally pressed their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the folks over at [deancas-sweetheart](http://deancas-sweetheart.tumblr.com/) for such a fun challenge! Any excuse to write about these stubborn ass nerds, honestly. 
> 
> I've been considering writing a little coda to this fic to be posted on Valentine's Day. Something fluffier? Possibly with more smooching??? Let me know if you'd be interested! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you would like to reblog on tumblr you may do so [here.](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/post/157081641230/by-any-other-name-edgarallanrose-supernatural) Or just check out my blog and follow me [here!](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)


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